


Carry the Reminders (And Then Leave Them Behind)

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Light Angst, M/M, Space AU, blasters and spaceships and purple decorating, mentions of child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27102124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: For the Winterhawk Big Bang!IT'S A SPACE AU!!!Clint's a bounty hunter, and Bucky's his latest mark. But Bucky's got information that will help get rid of Clint's childhood nightmares and if they can get that information to a team that's been looking for Bucky for years, so maybe Clint can blow his nightmares back to the dark. Meanwhile, Clint helps Bucky find his past and begin to look to the future.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85
Collections: Winterhawk Big Bang 2020





	Carry the Reminders (And Then Leave Them Behind)

<https://64.media.tumblr.com/85f28c33edaedf8319131f00227a8160/ba724c0f09e9aa08-2e/s500x750/aee67a6ae3a38a612c02be4c299204cd39945b22.jpg>

Art by M.K.! (I love it!)

<https://bigwolfpup.tumblr.com/post/632994931440517120/i-appologize-for-the-computer-trouble-i-had-that>

ART BY BugWolfPup! It’s amazing!

The ship had an odd clanking rumble to it when Clint extended the landing gear, but there was no time to waste checking it out, so he let the engine shutter down and then off, and he grabbed his blaster and tranq gun. He’d done a little research on this guy, so he added two laser knives and a sonic grenade to his pockets before he headed down the ramp to the port. He stepped onto the landing pad and clicked the code in to lock up his ship. The scanner in his hand assured him that this was the right port, where he should be able to find James “Bucky” Barnes, wanted for assassinating the boss’s right AND left hand men two weeks ago and stealing some sort of information that they were counting on making a fortune on.

The street outside the port was noisy, filled with tinny music and laughter and some sort of odd smell that Clint wasn’t familiar with, like a cross between a hot dog and an overcooked fish. The people are from lots of different planets and they’re spilling out into the street from bars and restaurants, partying like everything’s gonna end real soon. There was smoke and red dust and food smells all wafting down the purple street. Clint highly approved of the purple street. He looked down at his scanner. Right planet, right port, and a good chance that Barnes is hiding in the mayhem.

Clint pulled his coat – a thigh-length deep maroon leather coat he found after his last job – close around his neck and pulled out a small silver box and pressed his thumb to the lock. It pops and the lid opens to reveal a black container with a lens. He blinked to moisten his eye and pressed the lens in carefully. He blinked again to activate it, and in one eye the street turned a pale green and all the people turned to pink shapes. Some were human, and Clint let his eye rest on those when he came across them. The lens zoomed in, and it was a good thing he was used to it or he’d be dizzy from the zoom, and quickly scanned the person. NAME: Stanzler, HOMEWORLD: Benkin popped up in red in the lens and Clint shifted his head to find another human.

He’d find James Barnes if he was patient.

He didn’t find him. He searched methodically, moving from bar to bar and restaurant to restaurant, and even tried the old-fashioned method of pulling up a photo of the guy and asking if anyone had seen him. They hadn’t. This planet isn’t very hospitable outside of the port, thanks to deserts and dust and freezing nighttime temperatures. The natives built the port and put inside an atmosphere bubble, but only miners and maniacs leave the bubble voluntarily.

Clint had been doing bounty hunting for five years now, and it could be tough. Equipment usually made it easier, but not every time. There were tricks. So, he asked the bartender which bar was most popular with humans, and which one they avoided, and headed to the one most humans avoid.

It wasn’t loud to human ears, thank goodness, but it was dark, pierced sporadically with neon green and pink and yellow lights, and Clint added a night vision lens to his eye without the scanner when he slipped inside. There was a slight sulfuric smell, but he was grateful he didn’t need an air filter. He stayed to the edge of the room and scanned for humans as he slid along the wall. He got a little distracted by a pair of slender yellow llemians dancing nearby but blinked hard and went back to his search. No luck on the perimeter. He had to slide past a dilling duel on his way to the bar, but he managed with only a singed elbow and one shove of another onlooker, and he leaned on the transparent bar and ordered a drink. When he took a sip – holy shit it was a good one after a week in transit – he glanced to his left, scanning, and then to his right.

He’s a fucking professional so he did not drop his drink, but James fucking Barnes was sitting right next to him sipping a beer. Clint turned back to his drink and grinned into it. Luck followed him in tonight, that’s for damn sure. Barnes was wearing a red hooded sweatshirt and a black leather jacket, and his metal hand was tucked into his lap while his flesh one held his beer. Black hair fell from a ponytail into his face, and his jawline looked like it was chiseled from one of the diamond mines outside the bubble. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

He was also clearly not expecting a human to be looking for him here. He stared at the bar’s neon green and blue lights sizzling through the transparent casing and Clint could probably tranq him right away, but then he’d have to drag him through the crowded bar and back to his ship. Nope. He’d use another weapon he always has at the ready to make things easier: charm.

“Hey, pal,” he said lightly, with a grin, and Barnes snapped his head up and set his beer on the bar with a splash. “Didn’t expect to see another humanoid in this place,” Clint added. “I heard this place was mostly nonnies.”

Barnes licked his lips in a very distracting way and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and cleared his throat. “I didn’t see you coming.”

“I heard this place was good for hiring muscle,” Clint said, “I got a job needs doing.” He had an ace in his sleeve when it came to bounty hunting and he’s banking on it working to his advantage right now: humans didn’t get into bounty hunting very often, on account of how much muscle and grunt work it really took with alien species. If Clint had to take out one of the llemians he saw earlier, he’d have to have some equipment to help with the sheer weight.

Humans were small in the grand scheme of things.

Barnes flexed his metal arm now, plates shifting and clicking. “What kind of job? Off planet?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, sipping his drink. “I’ve got a shipment of minerals to deliver to Unimon next week. My ship can carry it, but it’s unusual and I don’t usually carry hauling equipment around.” Unimon is a planet in the opposite direction of Clint’s bosses, so if Barnes is running from them it might be enticing.

Barnes took a deep breath. “I can haul stuff. I kinda want to get off-planet and you can drop me at Unimon along with the cargo if you want.” He glanced at Clint and his blue eyes sparkled in the light of the bar. “If you want. I don’t ask much.”

“You got papers?” Clint asked.

“Yeah. They’re due to expire soon, but not for about three weeks.”

Clint nodded. “Okay, well, standard rates apply for hired muscle. If we run into trouble, I pay double. That work for you?”

“I got one thing,” Barnes said, and he frowned. “If you’re willing.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. Bargaining wasn’t really usual in this sort of situation. “What’s that?”

“On the way to Unimon is Taraplure. You mind makin’ a stop there so I can look around for someone? They’d be able to help if we found ‘em.”

Clint blinked. Well, this was weird, but whatever it took to get Barnes on his ship. “Who you lookin’ for? I’m on a bit of a timeline.”

Barnes smiled a little. It was a pretty smile. “I got a friend I lost touch with. I heard he might be on Taraplure and if I can find him, I might not have to hire myself out anymore. He’s bouncing around, though, from what I figure, and I don’t want to lose this lead.”

“How do you know he’s there? It’s a big galaxy,” Clint said. His curiosity was piqued.

“Oh, well. I been keeping an ear to the ground and he travels in certain circles. There’s a group I heard he joined, and they operate out of Taraplure. They send him out for stuff, according to my source, so I want to catch up with him there before he leaves again.”

“It’s a three-day jump to Taraplure in my ship,” Clint said. “That short enough?”

Barnes nodded. “Yeah. But listen. I got some people after me. They think I have some information and they’re pretty intense, so I figure I gotta tell you that up front. Don’t seem fair otherwise.”

  
Clint took a drink. This guy was something. “Do you have information? Must be worth a lot if you got a price on your head. That can get inconvenient.”

“Yeah, well, I’m hoping Steve’s group will help once I find them. My info could disrupt the Carnie Lines, and you know how valuable they are for Central Gov.”

Suddenly Clint’s air was gone, like the bubble got popped and the planet’s natural atmosphere let in. His chest tightened and all the sound from the room disappeared. Carnie Lines. He hasn’t heard that term in twelve years, and he’d been banking on never hearing it again.

“Hey, hey man,” a voice cut in. “Breathe. Breathe, pal. Open your mouth and breathe.”

Clint sucked in a ragged breath.

“That’s it, I’ll count it for you. In for one, two, three, four.”

Clint followed the count and after a minute he was breathing normally again, and he rested his head on the bar while the sounds returned. “Fuck,” he whispered.

“Buddy,” Barnes said, and his voice was soft and cautious. “Were you on a Carnie Line before? Most people don’t know enough about it to react that way.”

All Clint could manage was a nod. He clenched his eyes shut as memories washed over him.

‘Weapons up!’ the voice in his head called, ragged and overused. ‘You put your weapon up, you useless carnie! Put it up and use it. Ready! Aim! Fire!’ and Clint flinched now, against the bar, blood from mothers and children and whole towns pouring through his mind. Carnie Lines were armies, so-to-speak, but armies of indentured servants, of boys and girls who got bought by age twelve because they didn’t have anywhere else to go and no one to protest when they were pressed into ships and given microchips and weapons and food and bruises if they didn’t follow orders – bruises and sometimes airlocks if it was particularly bad. They were named after an old Terran traveling troupe who hired people with no concern for who they were and paid them next to nothing. Apparently, kids used to run away to join them and someone thought it was funny to call these child soldiers by that name.

Clint swallowed and blew out a breath before he looked up at Barnes. “You’ve got info that can take them down? Stop them? Really?”

Barnes nodded. His eyes were full of worry, and he was staring at Clint like he might break. “I have to get it to The Shield, but I’m not really sure how to find them, except Steve might be working for them now, from what I heard. Get me to Taraplure and help me find him, and then I’ll haul your shit to Unimon. No charge.”

Clint shook his head to clear it. “What?”

Barnes drained the rest of his beer. “No charge. You help me and I’ll help you and maybe we can help stop the Carnie Lines. They sure as hell need destroyed. Fucking vipers using kids like that.”

Clint swallowed. This changed things. His boss wanted Barnes alive, probably to trace how he got this information. Once he traced it, he’d kill Barnes, and as long as Clint didn’t have to do the killing anymore, he didn’t usually care what his boss did once he got his prey. This guy, though. Clint signaled the bartender for another drink and drank it in one gulp when it showed up. This guy said he could help end carnie lines and Clint’s boss clearly didn’t want them to end. That meant. Oh, shit.

Clint ordered another drink and one for Barnes, too.

“What the hell, man,” Barnes said. “You’re gonna pass out.”

Passing out would be better than thinking about fucking carnie lines and the fact that Clint had clearly been working for someone who ran them for the last ten years. Oh, fuck. He gulped the drink as soon as it showed up. He finally turned to Barnes. “Okay. I’ll get you there and help you find your friend. You gotta make me one promise, though.”

Barnes nodded gravely.

“You give me the same information you give your friend. It can be after we find him, after you give it to him – I’m good for helping you find him – but I want the information, too.” Clint would take the information and the situation into his own hands if he had to, but if Barnes had an idea how to bring down the Carnie Lines, then Clint would rain hell down on whoever he could to help.

Clint paid their tab with a nod from Barnes.

“Call me Bucky,” Barnes said as the pushed their way out of the bar into the smoky air. “I don’t like Barnes all that much.”

Bucky is, in fact, very strong. When they got back to Clint’s ship, after Bucky laughed at the purple accents dotting the ship’s clean silver lines, the fucking ramp wouldn’t open, so Bucky used his metal fingers to pry it down and yank. It took Clint fifteen minutes or so to fix the hinge and then figure out how to fix the ramp, but he managed, in spite of downing a few more drinks than he’d planned.

“This ship’s yours?” Bucky said as he looked around.

Clint shrugged. “More or less. I might kinda owe the guy who sold it to me a few hundred chits still, but he’ll get it. I’m good for it.” He waved his arm around the room. “This is a standard Uni class ship, but I’ve souped it up a little. Main lounge, but the vid channels pretty much suck.” He winced a little because there were clothes and empty food containers littering the lounge. He hadn’t planned on treating Bucky like a guest. “Bring your bag with you,” he said, and headed down a hallway. “There are two sleeping bays, so you can have this one,” he said as he opened a sliding door to reveal a box-style bunk area with a couple of beds and a dresser. The beds had forest green bedspreads and the room itself was a pale, yellow color, and the dresser was a deep gold and Clint kind of loves it. He’d sanded it down and painted it himself when he found it. Bucky nodded and threw his duffel in a corner.

Clint blew out a breath and headed back down the hallway. “That one’s mine,” he said, waving his hand at a door. “I’d show you but it’s a disaster. I’ll show you the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

The Uni class ships weren’t built for fighting. They were built for speed and basic living, so the lounge, sleeping quarters, kitchen, and cockpit were pretty much it except for a small cargo bay in the back that Clint’s transformed into a pretty hefty storage space by knocking down some built-in features that came with the ship. They’re old, too, no longer getting built, and Clint has taken his own odd preoccupation with color schemes and made it pop a little more than they usually did.

He’d painted the lounge a pale purple with silver trimmings, and the couch was a pink gold color with a pale green coffee table. He’s been on his own for all but a couple of his ten years out from the carnie line, and he doesn’t care if spending his cash on color and comfortable furniture is weird for a spacer, he’s gonna like what he has to look at every damned day.

“This place is wild,” Barnes – Bucky said as he leaned against the copilot chair in the cockpit. “I like it,” he added with a grin.

Clint shrugged. “I like color.” Even the cockpit has green and purple accents, with silver control panels that Clint kept sparkling clean. He leaned over and made a couple adjustments to their course settings before double checking the autopilot and leading Bucky out of the cockpit down another hallway to a small kitchen.

Bucky whistled and Clint startled at the sound, and then smiled.

Yeah, the kitchen was cool.

There was an L-shaped counter stretching from the door and around the left side of the space, with two cook boxes, some cabinets, and a refrigeration unit taking up the other wall. The cabinets and counter are painted a soft gray wood-like finish with silver pulls, and the refrigeration unit was the same pale purple as the main lounge. In the center of the room was a round table that looks like gray stone, with four sturdy wood chairs slid underneath. There was a fake green plant hanging in one corner, and a low hanging round light over the table. In another corner was a wooden hutch that held a mishmash of dishes and pans.

“You did all this yourself?” Bucky asked, and his voice was soft and filled with awe.

“I like a comfortable space,” Clint said with a shrug. “What else am I gonna spend my money on? Well,” he added with a sheepish grin, “Except for fuel.”

Bucky just nodded and stared at the room.

“You hungry?” Clint asked, and moved around him to get to the fridge. “I did a resupply before I went looking for you – I mean, for muscle.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess I am,” Bucky says, but he didn’t move.

“You want some eggs? I snagged some hooner eggs last planet. They’re good with cheese.”

Bucky swallowed. “I, uh, I like anything, really. I’m not picky.”

Clint nods. “Yeah. I get that,” and he wondered what had happened to Bucky. His eyes slide to Bucky’s metal arm. There’s a story there, most likely. He opened the fridge and pulled out the eggs and cheese and a couple peppers as well. He slid them onto the counter and pulled out a cutting board from the cabinet and a knife from the drawer next to the sink. He started chopping. “There’s a shower in your bunk if you want to take one before we eat. Then you can sack out after if that sounds good.”

Bucky left the kitchen without a word.

It’s three days to Taraplure and Clint had several things to do on the trip:

  1. He had to convince his boss to give him more time – he’s got a story to come up with or a future to plan
  2. He had to convince Bucky that he’s gonna do what he said he’d do. The guy was actually jumpy as hell an asked Clint to show him their course practically every hour.
  3. He had to find out who Bucky’s looking for and who the hell he’s working for that thinks they can take down the Carnie Lines.



The Carnie Lines are the backbone of the black market. They’re a child army, sure, but they’re also terrorists, even though they’re also slaves. They’re sent on raids for resources, raids for captives, raids for high powered theft and arms dealers. Take out the CLs and the underworld might just collapse, at least for a while. Since Central Gov was corrupt as hell, they never did anything about it and probably benefited from the lines, too.

Oh, and 4. Find out why his ship was shaking, and why the engine warning was sounding.

“Fuck!” Clint yelled, and dashed up to the cockpit.

Bucky followed on his heels and they both slid into the seats. Clint leaned over the control panel and flipped a couple things and stared. “Oh.”

Buck glared at him. “What do you mean, ‘oh’?

Clint threw a couple more switches and keyed some coordinates into the nav panel. “Well, you said you wanted me to get some fruit in my diet?”

“Clint,” Bucky said.

Clint sucked in a deep breath. “Well, I might’ve been hoping our engine compressor would get us to Tarapllure before it blew.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Well, the closest planet is Tanor and I hear it’s got some good markets.”

“It’s also got a standing army and is generally hostile toward humans, did you hear that?”

“Yeah, yeah. Well, we gotta get an engine part. Hostile or not.”

Clint managed to land at the base of a cliff about three miles outside of a small port city. This particular planet required filters for humans, but Clint’s got extra and they’re state-of-the-art. They’re a pale pink color and slid over your nose and above your lip, sticking with a pretty cool adhesive that barely even stung when you took it off. There was a loose, clear netting filter that laid over your mouth but didn’t get in the way of speech. All-in-all they’re easy to use. He strapped on his blaster and threw two sonic grenades in his pocket and loaded a backpack with water bottles, some protein bars, and two extra guns.

Hostile toward humans doesn’t mean Clint can’t bargain his way to a compressor.

“And if you can’t bargain?” Bucky asked as they trekked toward the city.

“I’m actually a decent thief. I had a stint after the lines with someone who taught me a lot about being quick and quiet.” The words bring a sad smile to Clint’s face as he remembered Natasha and their couple of years together. She taught him almost everything he knew beyond shooting with deadly accuracy, and they had a good time together. When she disappeared on a train job, he thought his world might actually end. Several benders and a couple of jobs on his own told him it wouldn’t, and it’s far enough back in time that he can smile about her now.

She’d told him that one day she’d disappear, like it was a premonition or something. He can almost hear her voice, “There’s someone I’m looking for, and I have to find him on my own. You can stick with me until I have to go for him.” He was never jealous of whoever he was; Natasha was generous with her affections and Clint had always just taken what he could get. When she disappeared and he realized he was alone again, it hurt for a while, and then he just slipped back into his solitary life.

Bucky laughed and said, “Okay. Between the two of us we might just manage it.”

They do, but not without a fight. The one mech shop in the port does, in fact, have a great hostility toward humans, but Clint had a plan. It was actually Bucky who went inside to inquire about the part, figuring his bulk and metal arm might intimidate them into serving him. He was told that they did have the part, but they weren’t selling it to a human. He was good at intimidating, though, and generally causing a ruckus.

Clint slipped in from the roof and actually crawled along the ceiling as Bucky and the shopkeeper argued. There were rafters and poles to use and Clint had some pretty unique skills in climbing and shifting around a room while Bucky yelled and threated to shoot the place up if they didn’t sell him the compressor. That’s not how they wanted to handle it, but when Clint lifted the compressor from the case of parts in the back of the room and the alarms blared, Bucky did, in fact start shooting.

Cint tucked the compressor into the backpack and flipped down to the floor with a blaster in each hand. He took out the shopkeeper and one of the guards before they could arm the auto shop guard system of lasers that most places had these days. Bucky used his size and arm strength to break the window after a metal grate snapped into place to block their exit. They were halfway out of town when the last guard shot and clipped Clint in the shoulder.

He crumpled to the ground in a heap, pain searing through the back of his shoulder, down his arm, and just below his collarbone. His breaths were coming in gasps, but Bucky pulled him to his feet and grabbed the backpack with the compressor in it. He held Clint’s elbow and shot the last guard, and then they ran.

When they got out of town and no was chasing them, they slowed, and Clint’s arm was surely falling off. A wave of dizziness made him stumble, and Bucky threw his shoulder under Clint’s good arm.

“Hang on, Clint. We’re almost there,” Bucky said through clenched teeth.

Clint tried to keep his feet under himself. Blaster wounds didn’t bleed much, but they tore things to shreds before they cauterized, and it was a wall of pure fire that pulsed through his arm with every beat of his heart. He was suddenly tired, and Bucky swore until the ship came into view. Clint saw the ship, then he saw blackness.

“Clint, I need you to wake up. Come on, buddy. Wake up. I need you to put this compressor in so we can get off this fucking rock, okay? I don’t know this ship.”

Clint blinked his eyes open slowly, and Bucky grinned down at him.

“There you are, you asshole. You checked out on me for way too long.”

His arm and shoulder were numb. “What’d you do t’my arm?” Clint mumbled. “I can’t feel it.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, and he rubbed his flesh hand down his face. “You had some pretty strong pain agents in that medkit of yours. I need you awake for a little longer, so I doubled up.” He reached down and pulled Clint upright. “I did put your antibiotic gel on, so no infection should get in.”

Clint’s shoulder was wrapped in bandages and his arm was in a sling, and his fingers were a little purple, but he couldn’t feel anything. It was weird as hell. The compressor, though. “Okay,” he said, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Let’s do this.”

Clint had to direct Bucky to install it, because it was tough to do with one hand in normal circumstances, much less when he was groggy, and his body felt like it was full of lead weights. When they were done, Bucky dragged him to the cockpit where he input the coordinates for Taraplure and then stumbled to his bunk and passed out.

Blaster wounds took a hell of a long time to heal, and that’s under good conditions. Clint didn’t have a medic to deal with the muscle tears and tendon ruptures that blaster wounds cause, so he left his arm in the sling and groused about it constantly. A few days after the fight he was sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of juice. “We didn’t even get any fruit from the market,” he said as Bucky fried some eggs at the stove.

“We had priorities,” Bucky said. “Here,” he added as he set a plate in front of Clint. “You didn’t eat much last night.”

That’s because he wasn’t hungry. He’s not really hungry now, either, but that’s the pain meds talking. He put eggs in his mouth and swallowed. ‘Thanks,” he said.

Bucky sat down across from him and nodded. “Sure. I’m just glad you’re up.”

They ate quietly for a few minutes before Clint worked up the courage to ask, “What happened to your arm, Bucky?”

Bucky sipped his coffee and didn’t say anything right away. Finally, he set his cup down and stared at the table. “I was working for this crew – we were fighting the Cetnral Gov takeover on this wintry planet that didn’t need the Central Gov anywhere near it – and we had to get onto this high-speed train. We had a ship, a little cargo runner, and our pilot set us over that train and three of us jumped. We had to derail the train before it got to this small city. The train was full of explosives.”

“Oh man,” Clint muttered. “Caught in an explosion?”

Bucky shook his head. “Fell. I fell off the train – we’d made it on, but they had troops waiting for us. I fell and, uh, the doctor in this little village whose people found me, he couldn’t save my arm. There was this hell of a scientist, though, living there and working in secret, and he fitted me with this once I was healed. It’s pretty amazing.”

Clint frowned. “Your crew?”

“They thought I was dead. Still do, probably. Steve would’ve come looking if he thought I’d made it. Poor sap. Probably grieved.” Bucky tried to smile. It didn’t really work.

“Steve, that’s who you’re hoping to find when we get to Taraplure, right?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Steve’s my best friend. The crew might still be with him, too. He tends to keep people around.”

“You were fighting the Central Gov. That’s something.”

“Yeah. We had to. They’re a bunch of corrupt colonialists. Planets need their own choices and government, don’t you think?”

Clint looked away. “I, uh, I’ve never thought much about it. I kind of just make my way. I’ve never lived on a planet anyway. Once I got taken into the CL, that is. I don’t remember much about my home planet.”

Bucky grinned. “Me and Stevie, we grew up on the same planet. Looked out for each other. He was scrawny as a kid, but he loved to fight, so I kind of followed him around beating people up who he fought with.”

“Always the muscle, huh?” Clint said, and he stared at Bucky’s bright blue eyes. They sparkled with the memory of home and Clint thought he might fall right into them. Until he yawned.

Bucky laughed and stood up. “I got the muscles to carry you back to bed. You want a lift?”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll make it.” He stood and went to grab his plate to put it in the sink, but he wavered on his feet.

“Whoa,” Bucky said, and he was right there at Clint’s elbow. “I’ll walk you back to your room. Leave your plate.”

“’kay,” Clint mumbled, and he let Bucky guide him back to his room.

When Bucky pulled the covers back from Clint’s bed before he deposited Clint in it, he smiled. “I like your room. You sure like purple, don’t you?”

Clint was asleep before he could answer.

When he woke his arm was throbbing, so he downed a couple more painkillers and headed up to the cockpit. They were only a day or so out from Taraplure. He sat down in the pilot’s chair and stared out the window as the stars blurred past. Suddenly his comm channel pinged. He flipped a switch before he answered, “Barton.”

“Where the hell are you and where’s my bounty, Barton” a voice growled.

Oh, shit. “Hey Rankin, don’t get snippy. I’ll be there,” he said as nonchalant as he could.

“You were due to check in yesterday. You didn’t. I checked all the ports on your list and you’re not at any of them and haven’t been seen at them, either.”

“That’s not true. I was on Benkis two days ago.”

“Yeah, and you’re not there now and haven’t hit any others on your list.”

“Yeah, and I had a change of plans. I’ll be there.” Just hearing Rankin’s voice grated on Clint’s nerves worse than the blaster burn on his shoulder.

“You’re not supposed to have a change of plans, Barton. You’re supposed to find our bounty and bring it to us.”

“Yeah, and that bounty is a person who acts however he wants, and right now he wants to be on Unimon, so I’m heading there to nab him. I’ll bring him back like we contracted. I fulfil my contracts and you know it.”

Rankin was quiet a moment. “Fine. But if you aren’t back in four days, I’m putting a bounty out on you, Barton.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Catch you later, Rankin.” He ended the comm and sat back in his chair. Fuck. He was gonna end up with a bounty on his own head for sure. On the run again.

“I’m a bounty?” Bucky said from the doorway to the cockpit. “I thought you needed muscle.”

Clint spun his chair around. Bucky had a blaster in his hand, and it was pointed at Clint. “Whoa, Buck. Wait. You’re not a bounty anymore, I swear.”

“Explain.”

“Okay,” Clint said, and put his good hand up. “I was going to get you to come on the ship for a job but yeah, you were a bounty. It was a trap.”

Bucky’s face hardened.

“It’s not anymore! I swear. I’m helping you just like I said. I’m not taking you back to Rankin. Not ever. I’ll deal with him after I get you to your friends and we bring down the carnie lines. I don’t give a fuck what he wants or does. I promise, Bucky.”

Bucky stared and then lowered his gun. He turned and left.

Clint leaned his head back against the chair. “Shit.”

The next day was quiet. Clint tried to rebandage his arm alone and he didn’t like the looks of his wound, but all he had were some basic supplies, so he just re-applied some healing cream and hoped for the best. He swallowed some more painkillers and tried to ignore the throbbing. He didn’t see Bucky. The kitchen and lounge were empty each time Clint came in, so he fixed some bland food that his queasy stomach could handle and drank water when he could. He slept fitfully and dreamed of kids with guns.

When the ship slowed on autopilot and the alert came that they were above Taraplure, Clint talked with the port authority and got a berth and took the ship in for a landing. He commed Bucky’s quarters. “Hey Bucky, we’re docked.” He didn’t get an answer, so he swallowed some more painkillers and headed for the docking bay. He was armed and had his duffel packed, but when he got to the latch, Bucky shook his head.

“No. You’re staying here. I’ll find Steve and the others and bring them back here.”

“What? No way,” Clint argued. “You said that if I brought you, I could have the information, too. You said I could help. That was the deal.”

“That was before I knew you were going to sell me out and before you fucked up your arm. Stay here. I’ll bring the information back.”

“Why the hell should I trust you?” Clint snarled. “You’ll just get on their ship and disappear.” Everyone disappears. Clint should stop being surprised.

“I won’t. I’ll come back with the information,” Bucky said, and his face was sad. “I don’t want you around and I don’t want you hurt more. Stay here, Clint.” He punched the door panel and left.

Clint counted to thirty and then followed him anyway. Like hell he was getting left out of this.

<><><><><>><>

The planet was tropical, and Clint was hot before he even got out of the port central. He followed Bucky at a safe distance, using tricks Nat had taught him those years ago. His shoulder was a bitch, but he could follow. When Bucky went inside shabby bars and upscale shops, he watched and waited, and on his third place he clearly got some good news. He bounded out of the bar and tore down the crowded street. Clint kept up. They weaved through the red palm-tree lined city streets and Clint’s breath was coming in sharper gasps when they finally slowed, and Bucky knocked on the door of an old, crumbling apartment. When the door opened, a tall, blond guy who looked like he could carry Clint and Bucky at the same time looked out at Bucky, dropped his jaw, and pulled Bucky into a bear hug before shutting the door behind him.

Clint watched the apartment door until sundown, but Bucky didn’t come back out and Clint was tired of waiting. He headed to the roof. He found the side of the building with the apartment and used his good arm to tie a rope around a fixture on the roof and dropped over the ledge and used his good hand to slide down to a balcony that should be the one Bucky went into.

There was a woman standing on the balcony and Clint pulled his blaster, ignoring the wave of pain in his bad arm after that sliding down the rope stunt. She turned and Clint saw her face as she threw a knife that hit his gun hand and he yelled in pain.

His knees decided to give out and he slid to the ground, holding his hand. The woman stood over him and when he looked up the world tilted, and he thought he must be hallucinating. “Tasha?” he said, and she crouched down in front of him.

“Clint?” she said, and her eyes searched his. “How the hell did you find me?”

It was her. It was Natasha who showed him how to live after the carnie line, how to steal, how to fly, how to survive. Here she was, kneeling in front of him with a frown on her face and here he was, with her knife in the back of his hand and the pain of an infected shoulder pulsing through him. “Tasha?” he repeated.

She smiled at him. “Did you come with Bucky? He said he had someone waiting, someone he wasn’t sure he could trust. Is that you?”

He nodded. “Tash, could you take your knife out of my hand? I don’t feel so good.”

She reached down and pulled the gold scarf from her neck and then pulled the knife from his hand. It came out with a sickening crunch and she wrapped it quickly to staunch the blood. She pulled him to his feet, but he swayed. “This is more than just a knife wound,” she said, and her voice was dark and protective.

“Got tagged two days ago with Bucky but I don’t think it’s healing right,” he mumbled.

She slid the balcony door open and pulled him into a brightly lit room with several people in it. Bucky was standing near the kitchen and the blond man who hugged him earlier was standing there, too. They all turned as they stepped inside.

“Bucky,” Natasha called. “Is this the guy? You ended up with Barton?”

Bucky blinked. “You know him?”

Clint watched the whole exchange and tried to focus, but blood from the knife wound and whatever hell was going on with his shoulder made his knees buckle and Natasha lowered him to the ground. She hovered over him.

“Clint, stay with me, sweetheart, come on. Stay with me,” she said.

Bucky called out, “You guys got a doctor? He needs a doctor,” and a man stepped forward and knelt next to Clint. He had kind eyes. “Something’s wrong with his shoulder. Blaster wound that’s being weird,” Bucky said over the guy’s shoulder.

“Thought you were mad at me,” Clint mumbled.

Bucky knelt down and brushed his hand through Clint’s sweaty hair. “Oh, I am, pal. But I need you alive if I’m gonna get to yell at you some more. Plus, you gotta explain how the hell you know Natasha.”

Clint tried to focus on him and nod, but his body wasn’t listening anymore. The room darkened and he passed out.

He blinked awake and he was in a bed – a bed much more comfortable than his own. He listened very carefully and, well, couldn’t tell anything. His hearing was pretty shit on a good day. His hand throbbed in time with his pulse, but it was clearly bandaged and clean. His shoulder still ached, but his body wasn’t as sluggish, and his fever was probably gone. He opened his eyes. Natasha was sitting in a chair next to the bed and he took a moment to catalogue the changes the years had wrought. Her hair was short now, wavy and redder than he remembered, and her face had a few more lines around her eyes, but she hadn’t seemed to age much at all.

“You look the same,” he muttered, and then closed his eyes again.

“You look like you got hit by a planet hopper,” she replied, and her voice was still silky and smooth.

He swallowed and opened his eyes again. “I feel better than I did before. You guys got a medic on your team?”

“Sam. He’s good. Says you fucked your shoulder over pretty good, but he did some work on it and says if you treat it right for the next few days it should heal up.”

“And my hand?”

“Eh. It’s just a scratch,” she said, and the corner of her mouth quirked up.

Clint grinned. “Good to see you, Nat.”

“You, too, Hawkeye,” she answered.

He frowned. “No one calls me that anymore.”

“Just because you’ve gone solo and no one’s around to yell at you.” She cocked her head and smiled wider. “Although Bucky said he was going to yell when you woke up. What the hell did you do to piss him off?”

Clint sat up and rubbed his face. “Took out a contract on him and might’ve forgot to mention it in a timely manner after deciding to join his ranks.” He met Natasha’s eyes. “I wasn’t gonna hand him over. I wasn’t.”

She nodded. “I told him you’d never do that if you knew why they wanted him. I convinced him.”

“Thanks, Nat.”

They sat in silence for a moment and then he couldn’t help saying, “You left. You just fucking left me, Nat. What the hell happened?”

She met his gaze and held it for a moment before sighing and fiddling with the sheets. “Actually, Bucky happened.”

“What?”

“My uncle had a team, when I was young. A team of fighters and rebels trying to upset Central Gov’s business. He trained me after my parents died, and he had a young kid who was the best anyone had seen with blasters and pretty much any hand-held weapons - Bucky. They’d just recruited him off of Taros 7 with their usual idealistic tactics, told him he could make a difference against Central Gov, and he taught me how to shoot. Another guy on the team taught all of us how to fight. My aunt was the explosives expert, and all of us trained together to get more effective. We caused a lot of headaches. But Bucky left when his best friend showed up with his own rag-tag little team called the Howling Commandos. Bucky wanted me to come, too, but I liked my uncle’s team and stayed with them. Bucky left and I ended up working alone, when I met you. You know that bit.”

Clint nodded and took the glass of water she held out for him. “You knew Bucky as a kid. That’s wild.”

“Yeah. He was great. We all liked him. So when he left, we made sure we trusted who he was going with, and that was Steve.” She grinned. “You’ll learn that it’s impossible not to trust Steve, so we were okay with him going.” She frowned now, though. “But they ran into trouble. Bucky got lost in a battle they were fighting – fell from a mag-train. Steve and everyone else thought he was dead. They sent word to us just so we’d know, and everyone, especially Steve, was wrecked by it. I ended up on that planet once and saw where he fell. No one should’ve survived.”

“I’ve met Bucky,” Clint said. “Clearly it takes more than that to keep him down.”

She nodded. “Yeah. You and I were doing that last job when I got word from my uncle’s team that they found a scientist who had records indicating Bucky was alive, that somehow he’d survived the fall but had been picked up by team working for a black market group after he left the scientist’s protection. They needed me to help on a raid to try and find him, but I couldn’t bring you along.”

“Why not? I’m a good fighter,” he protested, the small kernel of abandonment issues festering in his stomach again.

She smiled at him. “I know. But it was who had him that was the problem, Clint. I didn’t want you tangling with them again.”

“What? Who?”

She reached out for his hands. “It was Trick’s line.”

He swallowed and took a deep breath. Trick had been his owner when he was on the carnie line, and Trick was a bastard from hell. He hadn’t heard the name in years, and images of his snarling face and dark hair flashed in Clint’s memory. His heart sped up and his palms started to sweat at only the name.

“Hey,” Nat said gently. “Clint.”

He raised his head.

“I didn’t want you involved. I didn’t intend to leave you for good. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t find him, though. Bucky was on his own when I found him,” Clint said, trying to keep the shake out of his voice.

“No, I didn’t find him. Bucky escaped Trick’s team. Steve and I have been looking for him on and off over the past two years, but it’s a big galaxy. It took you to find him and bring him back to us.”

He stared at his hands that were twisted in the sheets and trembling. Trick, well, just thinking about him always fucked Clint up. He kept waiting for enough time to pass, for enough distance to grow, but he always threatened to shake apart when a thought of him came.

“Clint,” Natasha said, and she laid her hand on top of his. “Thank you.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Thank you for bring Bucky back to us.”

Oddly, thinking about Bucky calmed him. “Is he with Steve?”

“Yes,” she replied, standing. “He and the others are going over what Bucky found. I’ll let him know you’re awake, though. He’s been hovering.”

Bucky came in a few minutes later and sat down on the edge of the bed. His hair was wet from a shower. “Hey,” he said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Clint said. “Listen, Bucky, I wasn’t going to turn you over for the bounty. You gotta know that. Once you explained, I wasn’t going to do that.”

Bucky was quiet a moment, but then he nodded. “I know. Nat told me what happened to you, and I believe you. I ain’t mad anymore.” He locked eyes with Clint and nodded. “I appreciate you bringing me here.”

Clint grinned. “You found your friends.”

“Yeah, this is The Shield. They’re a bigger outfit than Nat’s uncle or the Commandos, and they’ve got a guy who’s aces at strategy. He’s looking over the intel I brought right now. We may end up with a chance at bringing down the lines after all.”

“I still want in,” Clint said, and Bucky smiled.

“Yeah, I know. I want you in, too. Your little ship is quick, and you’re pretty good in a fight. I told Phil to include you in the plan.”

Clint closed his eyes. He was going to help bring down the lines. Hell yeah.

“Clint,” Bucky said, and his voice was a little hesitant.

Clint opened his eyes again.

“Sam said you probably should get up and around. You’ve been asleep for a day and a half, you lazy bum. There’s a beach nearby, so do you want to go for a walk? Steve showed it to me yesterday and I think you’ll like it.”

A walk on the beach after all the crap of the last few days? “I’m in,” he said.

Bucky had cleaned up, showered, changed into cooler clothes. He wore tan shorts and a light blue t-shirt, and Clint borrowed some clothes from Coulson “call me Phil,” who was closest in size to Clint. The guy had odd taste, though, so Clint was in a pair of grey slacks and a white button down. Bucky said shoes weren’t necessary. Sam pressed a smoothie of some tropical sort into Clint’s hand and warned him to take it easy. Nat tucked a knife into Clint’s pocket, which he was immensely grateful for.

They left the apartment and the air was warm and humid. They crossed a busy street and Bucky led Clint down some concrete steps to a wide beach of pale blue sand and emerald green water. It was getting toward evening and the sky was pale yellow with light green clouds. There were wooden benches every fifty feet or so, and the beach was sprinkled with people from varying worlds. Clint stopped at the bottom of the steps and dug his feet in the sand.

“Can’t remember the last time I was at a beach,” he said, and he knelt down to feel the sand slip through his fingers. When he stood, Bucky was a few steps ahead of him peering out into the water, like he was searching for something. Clint followed him and they reached the water’s edge at the same time, surf brushing their feet. The water had a faint, flowery smell, and there were shells of all the colors of the rainbow spread across the sand. They stood quietly for a few minutes.

“Sometimes,” Bucky said, “I figure I can’t trust anyone. Not after I fell.” The gears in his metal arm whirred and clicked and then were silent again. “You felt different, though. In the bar, I mean, when I met you.”

“As soon as I heard your side, I wasn’t going to turn you in.”

“Yeah. I know that now. I’m sorry for freezing you out. You’ve been good to me.”

Clint shrugged and picked up a purple shell. “It’s okay. I get it.” He pocketed the shell. “It’s tough out here. I’m glad you found your friends, though.”

Bucky was staring at him, and then he chuckled. “You’re somethin’, Barton. You just roll with shit, don’t you? Just let it roll right off of you.”

Clint grinned. “What else is there to do?” he rolled his bad shoulder. “Ugh, let’s sit down. I’m still tired.”

They found an empty wooden bench and sat. The pale blue sun had started its descent. They watched quietly for a bit before Bucky sighed. “We’re gonna set up a few raids. Different planets at the same time. Send a message. Coulson’s planning it and Steve says his plans are airtight. We’re going to meet later today to go over the initial plans.” Bucky stretched his long legs out in front of him, resting his heels on the sand.

“Good,” Clint said. “Look, I was nine when I got pulled onto a line. The guy that led my crew was a ruthless bastard who beat the shit out of us on the regular. When I got away, I was on my own until Nat found me. We hit it off and she showed me the ropes of living a runaway’s life. Turns out she learned some of it from you, and some from this rebel group you both were involved with. She left me a couple years ago when she and Steve got word that you were still alive. That’s how I know her.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. The waves crashed against the shoreline and his muscles relaxed a bit more.

“She taught you how to steal,” Bucky said, and there was a smile in his voice.

Clint laughed. “Yeah, amongst other things,” and he couldn’t help the wistful lilt in the statement. He had loved his time with Natasha. She was the closest thing to a friend he’d really ever had. Bucky, though, maybe Bucky was another.

They sat and listened to the waves for a while, and then made their way back to the apartment, where everyone was sharing a meal together and talking about splitting up jobs and routes and attack plans for the Lines. There was a big, steel dining table in the middle of the room and watery light from a couple of lamps. There were several people gathered around the table eating, and Bucky pushed his way through to the kitchen. Clint followed him. There was a big pot of soup on the stove, and Bucky handed Clint a bowl. They weaved their way back to the living room and sat down on the couch there.

A guy in a silver sweater and blue pants sat down across from them and grinned at Bucky. “Did you get sand in your gears, Bucky?” he asked.

Clint laughed. “I didn’t think about that. Is that a problem? Sand in your gears?”

Bucky scowled at them both. “Shut up, Wilson.”

“Eh, I didn’t come over to talk to you anyway. Hey, Clint. I’m Sam. I patched up your arm and hand. How’re you feeling?”

Clint looked down at his bandaged hand. “Sore, but better. Thanks for helping me.”

Sam nodded. “Well, I heard you’ve got a ship we might be able to use in return?”

“Phil have a plan yet?” Bucky asked.

Sam picked at his own bowl and sighed. “Yeah. He’s smart. He said he’d go over your assignment when Clint felt up to it.” He fixed Clint with a glare. “Do not push it. You’re gonna head back to bed as soon as you’re done eating. Phil can wait until tomorrow to explain it. He said the timetable worked.”

They finished their meal and exhaustion pulled Clint back to the room he’d woken in earlier and he slept again. When he woke, he climbed out of bed and rolled his shoulder. Whatever Sam had done was a hundred times better, and while it was still really tight, pain didn’t accompany every movement. He headed out to the living area, and Bucky shoved a cup of coffee into his hands before he even said good morning. Clint blinked down at it and then up at Bucky, who grinned.

“I’d have had it next to your bed, but I thought you’d sleep longer,” Bucky said.

Clint inhaled and closed his eyes. “Perfect. Thanks.”

Phil Coulson was standing at the table with a gleam in his eye. He quirked his mouth into a grin and said, “How many cups before you’re ready to hear our plan?”

It was clear that they were all waiting on him, so he shrugged and drained half his cup in one go, ignoring the burn. “I’m good. Tell me who to shoot.”

Steve, who Clint had hardly spoken to the day before, clapped him on the shoulder. “Bucky says you’re a better shot than him. That’s saying something, but what we really need is your ship.”

“Well,” Nat interjected, pulling Clint over to the table with all of the plans, “Don’t underestimate his ability to break into any place. That’s going to be handy when we get to the compound.”

“What happened to multiple raids?” Clint asked, drinking the rest of his cup.

“Oh,” Coulson said, and his voice dropped into a clipped tone, “We’re doing multiple raids, but the team here – all of you – are the team that’s going to hit the main training compound and take down their ability to recruit. We’ve got three more teams hitting other planets, and a friend working on hacking their financials at the same time we take down their infrastructure. That’s the piece Barnes’ information unlocked for us.”

Clint nodded. “I like the sound of that,” he said, and he couldn’t help the snarl in his voice.

“Thought you might,” Bucky said, slipping in to lean over the table and point to the drawing of the compound. “So, have you been to this place?”

It was a casual way of letting the rest of them know Clint had been a victim of the Lines, although he figured Nat had probably filled them in as well. Clint leaned over and surveyed the map and nodded. “Yeah, but it’s been a long time since I was there.”

He ignored the memories of the floor-to-ceiling bunks, always dirty, the air thick with fear and body odors of hundreds of kids who got to shower every four days for two minutes, mattresses stained with urine of scared little kids having nightmares, the barbed wire of the compound edges, the shouts of deep, adult voices and the sting of a whip and fists any time they made a mistake. He blinked those thoughts away and pointed to a building in the compound. “You know this is the building to hit, right? This is where the weapons are kept. You take their weapons out and you cut off their legs.”

Phil frowned. “Our intel says that’s just a supply storage facility, like food and clothing.”

“Yeah. The weapons cache is underneath.”

“You’re sure? You said it was a while since you’ve been there,” Steve asked.

Clint couldn’t help his snappy reply. “They made us inventory everything each month. I know what’s down there. I also know that getting down there is gonna be a rough trick.”

With a deep breath, he walked them through what he remembered, and they matched it up with what their intel said. Everything lined up except the fact that the weapons storage was on the grounds.

“Our information says they’ve got the weapons on another planet – the facility Hand’s team is hitting.”

Clint rubbed his face. “Maybe they’ve changed it. I’m just saying we have to be prepared to get in there and blow it up, and I’m saying they have a lot more weapons than what you guys have accounted for here.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the map. Trick’s deep, booming voice echoed in his memory, with words like ‘worthless,’ and ‘disgusting’ and ‘just a body with a trigger finger’ ringing in his ears.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, pushing them back with a shove.

“Woah, hey,” Bucky said, and when Clint blinked, he and Bucky were the only ones standing around the table. “You’re safe here, Clint.”

Clint’s breath was coming out in huffs and his body was tense as a wire. He blew a long breath out through his lips. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Bucky moved close again and put his hand out to Clint’s shoulder, moving slowly like Clint was spooked. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, you goin’ along to the compound. Maybe you should just pilot us there, you know?”

Clint shook his head. “No. No. I have to help. You have to let me, Bucky.” The image of that compound getting blown to kingdom come was taunting him, pulling him.

Bucky frowned and guided Clint to the couch, pressed him down to sitting. He sat down next to Clint and started rubbing circles on Clint’s back.

Clint relaxed a bit and sighed. “I need to do this,” he said quietly.

“You think you can do it without getting stuck in a flashback?” Bucky countered.

Clint met his eyes, those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see straight through Clint. He nodded. “I think if we plan it and you and Nat are there, I’ll be okay. Please, Bucky.”

Bucky swallowed and stopped rubbing Clint’s back. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said.

Clint nodded. “Yeah, me, too. But it’s still happening to hundreds of kids. We need to destroy it.”

“Okay. Let’s get back to the ship and get it ready for company. It’s gonna be tight quarters for a bit.”

They gave instructions for the others to find the ship once they were packed up, and Bucky, Clint, and Nat headed back. A couple hours later, Phil, Steve and Sam joined them. Bucky and Clint had stopped at a market before heading back to the ship, and now they moved the couch in the lounge against the wall and set up a cot next to it, and put another cot in Bucky’s room and one in Clint’s room so they had sleeping for six people. Clint stocked up on food supplies as well and was in the kitchen putting together an easy meal when Steve came and stood next to him.

“Can I help with anything?” he asked, and Clint was struck again by the sincerity that seemed to drip from his mouth each time he spoke. He had no doubt the guy was tough as nails, but he definitely made Clint want to say the right thing and stand a little straighter.

“You want to slice some of the cheese for sandwiches?” Clint asked, pointing at a few blocks sitting on the counter.

“Sure,” Steve said, and shifted to the cutting board sitting on the counter. They worked in silence for a few minutes before Steve said, “I’m sorry this is all dredging up bad memories for you, Clint.”

Clint shrugged. “They’re just memories. I’ll be okay. I just hadn’t thought about that shit for a while, you know?” He worked for another minute before adding, “If we can make it so other kids don’t get dragged into this garbage, it’ll be worth it.”

“It’s a shitty operation, that’s for sure,” Steve replied.

“You and Bucky,” Clint said, trying to change the subject. “You’ve been friends a long time, huh?”

Steve grinned. “Yeah. Yeah, we have. I’m glad he’s okay.”

“You’re not pissed at me?”

Steve laughed. “If it weren’t for you, I might’ve had to wait a lot longer to get to see him again. No, I’m not mad.”

Clint sighed a breath of relief and they talked about some other things while they worked. Clint liked how Steve seemed able to see good things and compartmentalize the bad. “Sometimes all I can see is the bad shit,” he said to Steve at one moment.

Steve nodded and set his knife down. He wiped his hands on his pants and leaned against the counter. “This space system is a big place. Odds are there’s some good in it alongside the bad.”

“Yeah,” Clint replied. “Tough to see when you’re working bounties and dealing with scumbags most of the time.”

“Sure,” Steve said. “It’s why I hope you’ll reconsider your job once we’re done with all this.”

Clint met his gaze and it was just as earnest as his tone. “It’s all I’ve ever done outside the Lines.”

Steve ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Sometimes it seems like what you’re doing is the only thing to do. Not always the case, though.”

“Well, like you said. It’s a big place. For now I’ve got somethin’ new to do, and that’s good.”

Steve smiled and they called everyone in for the meal. The kitchen was loud and filled with the sounds of Sam and Bucky sniping at each other and the rest of them laughing and talking around them. Clint had never heard so much noise on his little ship. He liked it.

The trip was a few days, and Clint and Bucky sat in the cockpit alone a lot of it, just talking. The more they talked the more time Clint spent at night trying to get thoughts of Bucky out of his head so that he could sleep. Nat and Phil spent a lot of time at the chess board Phil had brought along, and Steve and Sam tended to use the cargo area to exercise and just goof around. They all spent time working out their plans and Phil was on the comm lines a lot, but he’d worked out a transport for the kids and a place to send them, and that filled Clint with a kind of warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

One night, he was in the engine room, just going over things and making sure the ship was holding together, when Bucky slipped in quietly. He was wearing a light blue t-shirt and jeans, but he was barefoot, and his hair was wet – like he’d just come from the shower. Clint’s mouth went dry at the sight of him. He couldn’t even manage to say hi.

Bucky quirked a corner of his mouth up at Clint. “Engine purring along okay?” he asked.

Clint nodded and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. It’s okay. I was just doing a checklist to make sure. What are you doing?”

Bucky shrugged and moved a little closer. He leaned against the control panel Clint had open. “You need to do this, or can we talk a little?” His blue eyes were dancing, and Clint lost his voice again. Bucky cocked his head. “You okay?”

Clint shook himself. “Yeah. I’m okay. Cockpit or kitchen?”

Bucky hesitated, but then said, “How about your room? Nat’s working out with Steve and Sam and Phil is at the kitchen table with the plans again.”

Clint didn’t say anything, just led them out of the engine room and back to his room. He closed the door behind him and motioned to the bed. They both sat down, an arm’s length apart. “What’s going on, Bucky?” Clint asked as worry started to bubble up at the odd situation.

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Nothin’ bad, so relax,” he said, and ran a hand through his hair. “We’re gonna land tomorrow and get the mission underway is all. I thought maybe, well.” He stopped and pressed his hands against his thighs. “Well, I thought,” he started, and then stopped again. He scooted closer to Clint and Clint felt the air buzz around him, and his body lit up with a charge. Bucky leaned in and said, “Stop me if I’m out of line,” and he hesitated. Clint’s chest was warm and having Bucky close but not touching suddenly seemed like the dumbest thing in the universe. He closed the distance and pressed his lips to Bucky’s.

Bucky grinned against his lips for a moment and then closed his eyes and kissed Clint so tenderly that Clint swore he could feel it all the way down to his toes. Bucky pulled back after a moment. “Been wanting to do that for days. Wanted to do it before things had the chance to go south on the raid. That okay with you?”

Clint laid his hand on the soft skin of Bucky’s cheek. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay with me. We should do it some more.”

Bucky laughed and leaned back in.

Clint hadn’t slept with anyone in months, and the last time he’d slept with anyone he actually cared about was Natasha, years ago. Bucky wrapped him in heat and adoration like he had never felt before. When they lay sated later, he drew lazy circles on Bucky’s chest. Bucky picked up his hand and pressed it to his face. “When this is over, we should stick together. I like it here.”

“You mean the ship? I can sell you the ship, Buck. You don’t have to put up with me for that,” Clint said, a grin in his voice.

Bucky slapped Clint’s chest and laughed. “If the ship don’t come with you in it, I’m not really interested,” he said, and then he sighed heavily.

“What’s wrong?” Clint asked.

“Just didn’t see you coming, is all.”

Clint laughed and reached up to run his hand through Bucky’s dark, sweaty hair. “Yeah, well, me neither.”

They lay quietly for a while and then took turns in the shoebox sized shower before heading back out to the kitchen. Steve and Sam had already fixed a meal, and everyone got quiet real quick when Clint and Bucky walked in. Clint glared at Natasha and Bucky said, “Oh fuck off, all of you,” and everyone burst out laughing.

They settled into the meal and Clint headed back to the cockpit when they were done. Natasha followed him.

The cockpit had a gold glow from the light panels, and Clint opened the panel so he could see the black of space. Nat settled into the co-pilot chair and put her feet up on his lap. He rubbed her feet and waited.

“So, you and Bucky. I didn’t see that coming,” she said.

He laughed. “It seems to be the consensus.”

She chuckled. “I mean, I think it’s good, don’t get me wrong.”

“Yeah? You do?” He found himself happy to hear it.

“Yeah. You deserve something good.”

He turned back to the dark of space. “Well, I don’t know about that. I was going to sell him off for a price, after all.”

“But you didn’t, and maybe now you’ll rethink that job when this is all finished.”

“Already have,” he confessed.

“Good.”

They sat quietly for a while before she spoke again, her voice full of concern. “You know we may run into Trickshot today. And just being here is going to be hard for you.”

He let the statement sit for a moment. “Yeah, but I’m doing it anyway. And if I see him, I’ll treat him the way he deserves.”

“Okay, but I want you to have the chance to say no to this.”

He shook his head. “I’m in.”

“Okay,” she said, and she stood up. “Holler when we’re there.”

He gave her a lazy thumbs up and stared at the dark outside. This was shaping up to be the weirdest two weeks of his life, that’s for sure. Unbidden, a memory of his mother, thin and pale with a bruise on her cheek, but with bright green eyes and golden hair, popped into his head. She would have hated that he ended up on the Lines, that he and his brother had been separated, that he had ended up living alone and in such a rough business. She had been kind, just worn down by a rough frontier life on the outskirt planet Harold Barton had decided would be their fortune. Clint had loved sitting at their kitchen table with her, drawing on scrap paper while she cooked and told him jokes. He learned to laugh from her.

He checked the numbers on the panel one more time and blinked the memory away. Now it was time to burn down the bastards who had preyed on his mother’s demise. He landed the ship and made his way to the hangar to join the others.

“All right. Bucky and Clint are cover. Steve and Nat are breaking into the offices and Sam and I are breaking any kids who are there out. We have about fifteen leaders to worry about, but they’re going to be easy to spot. Everyone ready?” Phil said as they stood in the hangar and the ramp. “Comms on,” he added.

Clint pressed the comm in his ear on and followed the others down the ramp. They’d have to hike a mile or so to the compound but would have to be quiet to do it. Bucky took point and Clint took rear, acting as cover even on the hike. They made it without incident. Phil had told them that the intel about the location was high security stuff, that they probably wouldn’t suspect anyone of an attack. When they approached the security fence, Clint took a deep breath to steady himself. He was here to destroy the group that destroyed his childhood.

And he did. Phil disabled the perimeter security with the codes Bucky had smuggled out, and they were inside in minutes. The group really didn’t expect an attack, and thanks to the other teams’ attacks elsewhere, all but a few of them were grouped in the offices trying to figure out what was going on. They were easy pickings for Steve and Nat. Bucky and Clint took the security guards – about twenty others – out in a quick firefight.

It was going too easy; Clint felt it in his bones. He took down security officers with a handful of easy shots, like they just didn’t have any fight in them. He needed to rendezvous with Bucky out front, after he cuffed the guys up to a metal grate near the back building, and his shoulder was aching, and his hand was throbbing. It must be why he missed the footfalls until an all-too-familiar voice growled, “You better be glad the big boss wants one of you bastards alive,” and a blaster pressed against Clint’s back. Trickshot’s voice sent ice through Clint’s veins and he stood still, trying desperately not to lose himself in the memories flooding back at the sound of Trick threatening him.

Trick stepped around him, left the blaster close and got a look at Clint’s face. “Holy shit,” he said, and Clint raised his eyes to face him.

Trick had more lines on his jagged, cragged face, and his greasy black hair was longer than Clint remembered, but his hooked nose and hard, thin mouth were exactly the same. Clint moved before Trick could recover from the sight of him.

He shoved Trick backward and knocked his blaster to the side as Trick fired, and he ducked under Trick’s arm and rolled, making him miss his second shot. He came up under Trick’s arm and Trick managed to swing and knock Clint’s blaster from his hand. He dove to keep him from getting another shot off and Clint was bigger than the last time they’d fought. He wrestled him to the ground and swung hard enough to break Trick’s nose with the punch, but Trick was a tough asshole and armed. He swung a knife that he’d pulled from somewhere and the blade swept across Clint’s chin.

He didn’t let that stop him. He pressed Trick’s knife hand to the ground and kneed him in the balls, hard. Trick dropped the knife. Clint rolled to his feet and kicked it away. Clint fired as he came out of the kick, and he didn’t miss. Trick’s shooting arm jerked backward, and Clint fired again, this time taking out a kneecap. He fired again and Trick was sprawled on the ground, panting, blaster burns at both knees and his shoulder. Clint stepped over him and pointed his blaster at his face.

“I bet you didn’t see me coming, you filthy bastard,” Clint growled, and pressed his blaster close to Trick’s eyes.

“Barton,” Trick hissed. “What do you think you’re even doing?”

“Blowing this place to hell,” Clint replied, “So no more kids get their lives ruined here.”

“They’re just gonna get ‘em ruined somewhere else,” Trick said, and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

“As long as you can’t get to them, I’ll consider it a victory,” Clint said, and he slapped another pair of cuffs on Trick’s wrist and clapped him in with the others. He ignored Trick’s shouts as he walked away, heading back to the front of the compound to regroup with the others. Steve and Nat were a little worse for wear, and Bucky was drenched in sweat and breathing hard, but everyone was vertical and didn’t have visible wounds.

“You’re bleeding, Barton,” Bucky said, stepping close.

When he pressed his shirt to Clint’s chin, Clint stared over his shoulder and caught Nat’s eye. “I locked Trick up back with the others,” he said, and his voice shook. He added, “Bastard thought he could take me out.”

Bucky chuckled. “I don’t think anyone can take you out.”

Phil’s voice crackled over the comms. “Kids are accounted for and on our way back to the ship. There are about a hundred, so we’ll need to do a couple trips to the port where our people are meeting them.”

“That’s our cue,” Steve said. We took what we needed from the offices and set charges. Let’s go.”

Clint followed them out of the compound and turned when they got far enough away. He let blood drip from his chin as Steve pressed the button and the compound offices when up in a fiery blast. They’d send authorities in after the guards and officers and Trick, but they blew the building apart. They blew the barracks, too, and Clint’s feet were glued to the ground as the flames burned his nightmare source to charred pieces.

“Clint?” Nat said from next to him. “We need to go.”

He swallowed and took one last look, and then he turned and wordlessly followed them back to the ship. He let Bucky clean and dress the cut on his chin before he headed to the cockpit and piloted the first round of kids back to the port city. A few hours later and all the kids had been delivered and word came in from the other teams that all the facilities had been destroyed. It was going to take a herculean effort to get the Lines up and running again, and the Shield would be watching.

Clint took them off-planet when they were done and set the nav computer to autopilot. He shuffled back to the kitchen where everyone was crashed at the dining table with food on their plates. Clint fixed himself a sandwich, got a glass of water, and sat down next to Bucky. He leaned against him while he ate, relishing the feel of his solid frame.

“You okay, Clint?” Sam asked quietly, and everyone’s gaze shifted to him.

Clint nodded. “Yeah. Uh, I do want to say thanks, though,” he said, and he lifted his head despite how tired he was. “Those Lines are horror shows for those kids. As someone who lived that life for too many years, I’m grateful that you all moved in and took them out. I don’t want any kid to be forced to do that shit ever again.”

Everyone nodded. Phil spoke up. “The kids will have to go through a recovery program, but they’ll be placed on planets with families and schools and support. They’ll be taken care of.”

Phil’s voice was calm and sure, and gentle, like he understood Clint and what happened to him.

Clint swallowed and stared at his plate. “Thanks,” he said.

“We all did this,” Steve said, and something in his voice made Clint raise his head again. “Now we need some rest and we need to decide our next move.” He smiled at Clint and Bucky. “Our original plans might need some tweaking.”

Natasha wiped her mouth and spoke up. “I know we hadn’t talked much beyond seeing what else the Shield needs, but I saw something interesting on their ‘potential case’ list. A couple of scientists that Central Gov is holding and forcing to do work that’s pretty shady. We know they’re being forced.”

“What are they working on?” Sam asked.

“It’s a new kind of engine propulsion system that uses this weird energy that Central Gov is sure can be weaponized.”

“Great,” Bucky said. “A rescue mission.”

“On a C-Gov planet, no less,” Natasha said with a quirk of her lips.

“Sounds like a good challenge to me,” Clint said, meeting her gaze.

“Barton likes challenges,” Bucky replied.

“Well, obviously. He’s with you at the moment, isn’t he?” Steve said, and he punched Bucky’s metal arm.

Clint laughed and pushed back from the table. “On that note, I sense a challenge ahead of me tonight.”

“Oh shut up, Barton,” Sam groaned. “We do not need to hear about it.”

“Is this what we have to look forward to all the time?” Phil asked with a frown.

“My ship,” Clint sing-songed. “You have to put up with me.”

“Oh, I’m gonna put up with you,” Bucky growled, and pulled Clint out of the kitchen and down the passageway to his room as the others groaned behind them.

They actually took turns showering, and when Bucky climbed into bed after his, Clint was half asleep already. Bucky pulled him close, though, and Clint ended up with his head on Bucky’s bare chest. He listened to Bucky’s heartbeat and relaxed some more.

He was used to laying alone and listening to the sounds of the ship as he went to sleep. This was much better.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you can forgive the giant suspension of disbelief I'm asking for here, as space is really big. I do get that. I just chose to ignore it. Thanks for reading, and thanks to the Winterhawk BB folks and my amazing artists!


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